New Year Heroes: The Sheriff's Secretary / Veiled Intentions / Juror No. 7. Delores Fossen

      LUCAS STARED AFTER HER, stunned first by her emotional outburst and secondly by what she’d said to him. As his surprise abated, anger welled up inside him.

      Who in the hell did she think she was? How could she possibly compare him to an abuser? She knew nothing about him, nothing about Jenny.

      Lucas pushed away from the table and stood, his intention to chase after her, but by the time he reached the living room he decided to give himself a few minutes to cool off.

      He returned to the kitchen and cleaned up the dishes, his head whirling with his thoughts.

      She was under an enormous amount of stress, he told himself. Surely she didn’t really believe those things about him. He was not abusive to Jenny, he was just trying to save her from turning into the kind of woman who had given them birth.

      Mariah didn’t understand him, didn’t understand where he was coming from where Jenny was concerned. And in any case he certainly didn’t owe her any explanations or apologies for how he conducted himself with his sister.

      He grabbed his overnight bag, his cell phone and a clean uniform and headed for the bathroom. Maybe beneath a refreshing cool shower some of his anger would dissipate.

      It worked. As he stood beneath the spray of water he couldn’t sustain the anger that had momentarily gripped him. Instead, a swell of sorrow filled him for her. He couldn’t imagine being a young woman with a small child and having to run away in fear from the man who had promised to honor and cherish her.

      He’d suspected secrets were in her past, and now she’d shared them with him. Was it any wonder she saw imagined abuse in others? She’d been through hell and had survived only to have her son ripped away from her by some unknown perpetrator.

      Dammit. He wanted to be a hero for her. Her father had left her, her husband had abused her. She needed a hero. He wanted to bring her son home safe and sound. And he wanted to be a hero for Jenny. He leaned weakly against the shower wall as his head filled with thoughts of her.

      He’d refused to allow himself to dwell on her, had instead tried to keep his focus on Billy. But now a rush of fear consumed him, clenching his stomach muscles as he broke into a cold sweat.

      Jenny. His heart cried her name. From the time she’d been born, he’d taken care of her, seen to her needs and protected her from the world. And now he couldn’t do any of those things. She was gone, taken for some reason he couldn’t discern by a madman playing a game.

      He hadn’t cried when his mother died. He hadn’t shed a tear when his wife had walked out on him, but the thought of never seeing his sister again pulled a deep sob from the very depths of him.

      He sucked in a deep breath and stuffed his emotions deep inside. The only way he’d be able to get through this was to keep emotional distance. He wasn’t just one of the victims’ brother, he was the sheriff of Conja Creek and had to be strong, if not for himself, then for Mariah.

      Getting out of the shower, he grabbed a towel and quickly dried off, then dressed in his clean clothes. He opened the bathroom door and bumped into Mariah, who had apparently been waiting for him.

      “I’m sorry,” she said, obviously tortured. “I was way out of line and I apologize. It’s really none of my business.”

      “Apology accepted,” he replied easily. There was nothing to gain by holding on to a grudge, and she obviously felt terrible about what had happened between them.

      “I’m scared and I’m angry and you were convenient to vent to,” she continued. She worried a hand through her hair. “I don’t know why I said those things.”

      He held up a hand to halt anything else she might say. “We’re under a lot of stress. As far as I’m concerned it’s forgotten.”

      “I guess I’m just finding it difficult to think about facing another day,” she said as he stepped out of the bathroom door and into the hallway.

      “I know.” He couldn’t fight the impulse to draw her into his embrace. Despite the things she’d said to him, in spite of the fact that he should be angry with her, he felt her need to be held. Or was it his own need?

      He pulled her against him, molding her curves against him as her arms wound around his neck. She was soft and warm and yielding.

      She buried her face into the front of his shirt as her body trembled. He tightened his arms around her, wishing he could provide a barrier between her and her heartache.

      He rubbed his hand down her back and tried to focus on giving comfort instead of the rising desire that filled him with her intimate nearness.

      They stood that way for several long minutes, then she raised her head to look at him. He had no intention of kissing her, but as her full, sensual lips parted, he lowered his head and covered them with his own.

      He half expected her to pull away, knew somehow that the kiss was out of line, crossing a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she seemed to move closer to him.

      Her mouth opened to him and he deepened the kiss with his tongue as full-blown desire crashed through him. She returned the kiss, her tongue battling with his.

      Her hands tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck and a slight moan escaped her, only increasing his need to take her.

      Yet in the back of his mind he knew this was wrong. He felt as if he were taking advantage of her, exploiting her vulnerability. Reluctantly he broke the kiss.

      She stared up at him and swallowed. “Temporary insanity,” she said, her voice hoarse as she stepped back.

      He was saved from making a reply by the ring of his cell phone. He listened to what his deputy had to tell him, then clicked off.

      “That was Wally,” he said to Mariah. “He picked up Remy Troulous and has him down at the office for questioning.”

      Her features lit with hope. “Surely he’ll tell us if he knows anything about this. Just let me talk to him. I’m sure I can get him to tell us what he knows.”

      He didn’t have the heart to tell her that Remy Troulous was a man who wouldn’t be moved by a mother’s pleas. If Remy didn’t want to cooperate, there was nothing on this earth or beyond that would make him do so.

       Chapter Seven

      Mariah was grateful that he didn’t mention the kiss as they drove to the sheriff’s office. She couldn’t imagine what had possessed her. But more, she couldn’t imagine what had possessed him.

      By all rights he should have been livid with her. She’d said terrible things to him, but her bad behavior certainly hadn’t stopped him from kissing her.

      Definitely temporary insanity, and it was obviously a state they had both suffered—for just a moment at the exact same time.

      She was acutely conscious of him and she couldn’t understand it. She wasn’t even sure she liked him that well, but all she could think about was the heat of his mouth against hers, the memory of his hard body holding her tight.

      How easy it was to focus on these things when the only other emotion she had inside her was wrenching, chilling fear. Her need for Lucas was so much simpler than all the other emotions that filled her at the moment.

      “Did Wally say where he picked up Remy?” she asked, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence that had ballooned between them.

      “He didn’t say, and with Remy it’s hard to tell where Wally might have found him.” Lucas turned onto Main Street.

      The sun broke over the horizon, painting the buildings with a burst of gold light and dancing on the flowers that bloomed in pots in front of the shops.

      Monday morning. She should be getting Billy out of bed and ready to go to the babysitter so she could go to work. She closed her eyes as she thought